


Chasing Nautilus

by coffinofachimera



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Car Sex, Daddy Kink, Humor, M/M, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Riding, Road Trip, Smut, nipple sucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 15:16:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4881688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffinofachimera/pseuds/coffinofachimera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam agrees to embark on a four hour road trip with Harry to buy an overpriced mermaid lamp he’s spent over a year saving up for. But as the trip is faced with obstacles, the significance the lamp holds for Harry and the people around him begins to unravel in peculiar and unexpected ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally supposed to be a 1k oneshot for a car sex scene, but developed into something much bigger heheh! I didn't want to begin another work in progress, so I decided I would push myself to finish and post it all at once. I didn't map out this story previously at all, but instead let it develop as I went on. I am happy with how it turned out. I hope you all enjoy reading the story.

"You're wearing that coat?" Liam asks, hand still on the doorknob as he watches Harry shrug into a black overcoat. 

"Yeah. What's wrong?" Harry furrows his brow worriedly as he looks down, inspecting his coat in timid pats before mumbling, "Does it not go with the outfit?" He wears a wilder button-down shirt today, he'll admit. Size XL, pink with white polka dots all over. He worries about the size— if wearing the coat over it makes him look frumpy.

"It's seven degrees out there."

Relieved he looks good, Harry lets his hands fall to his side, walking to meet Liam at the front door. "That's not so cold." 

"You always complain that you're cold in that coat." Liam says, but Harry's already reaching for the doorknob. He warns him, "You know how you are with cold weather." 

"I'm gonna be in the car the whole time. I won't even be wearing it in there." Harry turns the handle, the door barely making it open before his mother, Anne, calls out from the kitchen.

"Are you leaving?!" Her voice is clear in the small apartment. No distance to fade it out. 

"Yes!" Liam answers, looking to the kitchen's entrance down the hall. The light from inside is bright and gold; as if to the left, down the unlit, narrow hallway, leads into a divine place.

Anne pops out into the hall, racing idly to the front door. "Wait, don't go yet!" She's dressed in tight yoga pants and a fluffy, deep teal sweater. Her hair needs a trim, she's been complaining. So she keeps it in a messy bun, refusing to wear it any other way. 

"No more lists..." Harry whines quietly when he notices the small piece of paper pinched between his mother's fingers. 

And she giggles. "It's only a few things." 

Anne will do this. She'll write up a long list of things she needs or needs done—small groceries and picking up packages, mostly— and she'll keep it to herself, waiting for the very moment Harry's heading out the front door to trap him with responsibility. As guest in her apartment, driving around to do her daily errands is the price of a bed, three meals a day and never lifting a finger to do his own laundry. But Harry doesn't mind. He'll never say no and keep any complaints to himself. Whining about running errands for his dear mother is terribly bratty of him. He's in no position to refuse; spoiled enough, he knows he is. Some nerve he'd dare to have to try and get his way out of the list. 

But today is different. 

Anne hands Harry the list, written on a sheet of floral memo paper from a gifted letter set. And Harry gives it an especially sorry look. "Mum, I can't today." He starts quietly, thinking about handing her back the paper until he sees her disapproving glare, eyes narrowed.

"Why not?" Her voice drops, and Harry's stomach drops with it. Rarely does his mother ever lower her voice at him, blocking his pretty pouts and bambi eyes with frosty apathy. 

Sensing the altercation, Liam nervously tucks his hands into the pockets of his blanket-lined jacket as he backs away. Rotating into the corner of the wall, he pretends to be fascinated at the key holder shaped like a bird house that's been there since 2012.

"You know today I get the lamp..." Harry whines feebly, trying to be small as he looks down at his mother.

"The mermaid lamp." 

"...The Tiffany Studios bronze mermaid lamp with the nautilus shell. It's a collectible."

"Mermaid lamp." 

"Yeah. It's the one I've been saving up for like, a year. You know."

She nods, "The £2,000 mermaid lamp. I know."

For a little over a year, Harry had been putting aside £130 every month to save up for a collectible Tiffany lamp. A bronze mermaid swims atop the ocean's surface, her back arched straight up as she holds above her head a big, white, stained glass seashell— with a lightbulb inside. Harry came about it on an ad in the collectibles section on Craigslist— No intention of buying it. His eyes were set on a £500 original Rolling Stones poster from their 1970 European tour. 

But a dream, Harry says, convinced him otherwise. It's sparked several sincere, ridiculous and seemingly dormant passions in him—mermaids being among them. They could be fleeting interests; biased by modern fads. But the naked mermaid inked forever on his arm in bold black ink really cements that passion. Although novelty purchases are nothing new to Harry, £2,000 might be the biggest money he's ever spent out of his retail worker's paycheck on any impulse buy— even more surprisingly on a lamp. But after sixteen months, you can't really say it was on impulse. That might be what's most surprising of all. 

Anne knows about the mermaid lamp. There hasn't been a day in her apartment that Harry hasn't spoken about how much money he's saved for it, or how precious and valuable it is in an attempt to justify the absurd price. But she also knows about Harry's shallow, elementary passions. She knows he's bad at budgeting, saving— any kind of math. And Harry knows how _she_ feels about the lamp. His mother thinks the lamp would serve as an emblem of his poor financial choices and lapses in judgement. A £2,000 abomination with a lightbulb. 

Anne can find it in her to adore just about anything Harry does; her darling angel. But the sunniest sentiment for the lamp is tolerance. Everything below that is heavy, dark and bitter on the tongue. So out of character and ugly of her, Anne thinks. She would rather ignore the lamp altogether. Because if anything could crack her tolerance and send her down into an ugly temper, it would be the lamp. 

And it certainly did. The lamp brought out the ugly in Anne. 

"I'm picking it up today. You know, finally!" Harry pauses, waiting for his mother to smile with him. No success. "It's a big trip. Two hours to Cumbria from Cheshire. I only have enough gas in my car to take me there and come back. I can't afford to take detours today— Just today! I'd run out of gas. That's the only reason I can't do your list. Today. I always run your errands every other day."

"So then stop to get more gas if it gets low."

"It's a Range Rover, mum. You know how it is on gas. It's not as if gas would be cheap. I don't even know if the full tank of gas I put into it is gonna make it there."

"For God's sake, a full tank?! That's enough bloody gas to get you to Scotland, Harry!"

"N-Not round-trip..." Harry stammers, stunned and humbled at his mother shouting at him. It's embarrassing; he knows what it looks like, what Anne thinks. That her son is being selfish and cheap. More than willing to spend thousands on a lamp over a hundred miles away, yet having the nerve to reject a favor for his own mother. But it isn't what it looks like at all. Besides the lamp money he's saved up for, he doesn't even have any more on him. "I'm short on time as well, mummy. The woman who sells the lamp leaves for lunch at twelve in the afternoon. It's almost nine o' clock, I need to leave right now and keep going if I'm to make it on time. I can't make stops."

But she doesn't entertain any of his excuses, and sharply tells him, "Harry, you are to get my things and come back. And _then_ you go off on your trip." 

"What? No... Mum..."

"I'm not waiting four hours until you get back, Harry!"

"Well I couldn't do it on the way back, anyway." He mumbles. At that, his mother's eyes go wide. But Harry doesn't see as he fidgets with the buttons on his coat. "I'm sure you can wait until tomorrow. It's just such a difficult day for me. I'm very busy."

"Oh, that's such fucking _rubbish_ , Harry!" Anne shouts. Anger in her scowl gives her blue eyes a lambent twinkle; as pretty as it is terrifying. Her cheeks have flushed under her spray tan, turning her skin a deep, violent scarlet. It's all so outrageous. If Harry could shrivel up and hide under the floorboards he would. Aghast, of course, but just as much humiliated. Liam is only a foot away hearing this all go down. Probably thrilled.

Absolutely thrilled. Liam gasps silently into the wallpaper, fighting back the desire to shoot a glance behind him. Amazing just to hear, but what a sight it would be: an angry Anne. Shouting at _Harry_. Never, in five years of their relationship, did Liam think he'd witness a day where Harry got slapped with a sharp-tongued scold from his mother. His mother, Anne, the reputable saint who always lets her pretty son have his way so long as he flashes his polite, angel-faced charm. There's more bite to her than Liam was led to believe— By both of them. Harry's charm doesn't hold as much power over his mother as he likes to pretend it does, and Anne isn't really made of just sugar and sunshine.

"Look at that list!" She shrills, watching Harry uncrinkle the paper as he turns his head down to make out her handwriting. "Three things. _Three_ things. You're taking a two hour road trip to Cumbria to spend £2,000 on a bloody fucking _lamp_ , and you try to talk your way out of getting me batteries? And— And conditioner, my shampoo? _Eggs_? That is _all_ I have written down, Harry. You listen to me, this is my home. You live in my home, you shall live under my rules." Anne lifts up her hand, holding three fingers to her son's reddened face. " _Three_ things. And you're not even paying for them!" 

Harry didn't realize he'd backed up and pressed his back against the door. He glances at Liam who stands in the corner like a punished child, in an awkward attempt to withdraw from conflict. The clock on the wall reads 9:01am. "I'm sorry." Harry surrenders, watching his mother pull and fluff her sweater to adjust it, looking like a flustered bird shaking its feathers. 

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself." She pants, calming down. Like a tea kettle's whistle dying out when pulled away from the flame. From the hem of her yoga pants, she yanks out a folded bill before handing it to Harry. He takes it; a single, crisp £20 bill. Holding it in his hand, that's the white flag of ceasefire. Anne knows that as much as Harry does. Pleased, she dusts off his overcoat before buttoning it up. This is like stress fidgeting. She takes a deep breath. " _Please_ get me what I asked for on the list, thank you. Ask Liam to help you, as well." 

Liam turns around, eyebrows raised. "I-I'll help." He stutters, afterwards worrying if it was obvious he was eavesdropping closely the whole time.

Harry whines soft and childishly in his throat as he pouts. He's upset; about having to do the list, about receiving such a harsh, humiliating scold from his mother. He'd take a nap right now— Always does when he's upset. But he'll fake joking like he doesn't care, if only for time's sake. As his mother buttons up his coat, he thinks about how he'll unbutton outside. The list and the £20 bill are still in Harry's hand, and he maneuvers around his mother's arms to place it in his coat's pocket, now bloated with his phone, keys and wallet tucked inside. He turns his head up to look at her. 

There she is, she's come back down. She giggles at the adrenaline still swimming in her blood. Giggles again when Harry makes a crying face. "I'll see you when you get back."

"I'm scared."

"You'll be more than that if you don't get my list done."

His eyes go wide. "No, no. I'm doing it." He laughs, pushing himself off the door. Liam has come to stand by his side, he notices. "Alright, we should be going. Bye, mum." Harry hugs his mother goodbye before grabbing hold of his boyfriend's arm. 

"Bye, Anne." Liam's goodbye hug is awkward with Harry's arm tightly wrapped around his own. Anne is sheepish as she wonders what he might be thinking about the earlier argument. Liam wanted to crack a joke with her about it. But Harry's in a hurry, quickly pulling him outside to match his pace as they walk onto the sidewalk to make it around the building and into the parking lot. 

The day is gloomy; dark clouds fat with rain wrap the sky menacingly. Liam worries about Harry getting cold, but remembers the point he made about staying inside the car the whole time. Halfway into the lot, he laughs quietly, "I've never heard your mum swear before! God, she really told you off."

"I was honestly like, shocked." Harry cracks up, bringing his hand to his chest. "Jesus. But I had it coming."

"That was quite scary. And I didn't even get to see her. I was looking at the wall the whole time. "

"Be grateful you haven't seen her when she's really angry."

"What's that like?"

"It's like... um..." Harry purses his lips, taking his mother's list and the £20 from his coat's pocket to put inside his button-down's breast pocket. " Imagine a big dog barking in your face. And it's tied up to a chain so it can't really get to you. But it's like, the chain could definitely break. And the dog is like, an inch away. And it's very loud. And you're very afraid. And you wee a little bit."

They reach Harry's car; a black 2013 Land Rover Range Rover Sport. Walking Harry to the right side, Liam says, "Bet you've pissed your pants for real, before. I'll admit, I could see it happening to me. Your mum was quite scary back there."

And Harry snorts, "Don't lie! You were having a blast in your little corner. Eavesdropping at..." His words trail off, his mind switching to skillfully empty out his pocket with his right hand. The list, £20 bill, phone, wallet— he wedges them all in between each of his fingers, seperated out in a grotesque sight. The keys, he dangles from his pinky. "Get my keys, please. So you can open up the car." 

"What's wrong with your left hand?" He pinches the palm Harry's empty hand, taking the keys from the other.

"I'm right handed."

"You do the most weird, unnecessary things..."

Liam unlocks the car, opening the door for his boyfriend. Harry drops his posessions from his cramping hand onto the front seat so he can take off his coat. It takes him a while— His mother did up all the buttons, and there are a lot of them. He whines immediately and shivers in the cold when he's left in just his button-down shirt and jeans. And then he hops inside, throwing his coat in the back seat. Liam's moved all of Harry's things from the front seat, he notices. Started the car and cranked up the heater, too. "Aw, thank you, Liam." 

"You're welcome. I put your stuff in the glove compartment." And then he points, "Look, your nose is all red. 

Harry looks at his reflection in the rearview mirror. Pale as a sheet; nose and cheeks a deep, glossy red. "I look sick." After readjusting the mirror and clicking on his seatbelt, Harry puts the car in drive. No time to waste. He gets out the parking lot and gets on the road. But not before waving goodbye to his mother. Driving by, they wave to Anne who sticks out her arm from behind the small gap of the open door. Too cold outside to stand by the front steps the way she always does. Or maybe she's just a little embarrassed of her outburst, compelled to hide.

"So we're going to Tesco first? To get your mum all that stuff." Liam tries to take off his blanket-lined coat jacket, already feeling the air becoming toasty. 

"Seatbelt."

"I'm getting there." He throws his coat in the backseat before buckling up.

"Will you hold onto this for me?" 

Liam takes a folded piece of paper from Harry's outstretched hand. "Oh, you've got directions!" Harry printed out Google Maps directions from Holmes Chapel, Cheshire to Maryport, Cumbria in the morning. Streets, roads, turns— Everything is there; color-coordinated and calculated in miles. "Wow you used up a lot of ink." Liam says as he traces his fingertips over the rich colors on the paper.

"I actually wasted it all from the printer."

"You shouldn't have used so much."

"It was an accident, Liam."

"It says we need to get on West Road."

"I know how to get there. A few good miles ahead so... we're not en route yet, per se." They drive slowly through the homely, white buildings and neat streets. Harry lived most of his adolescence here before moving in with Liam in Birmingham. But a few miles beyond West Road, Harry won't know where he is anymore.

"Alright. Tell me when we get there. I'm the mapkeeper." Liam tells him enthusiastically, suddenly very animated now that he has an official, albeit self-appointed, part in the venture. "I'm honestly really good at maps, you know. I was the best at it in Boy Scouts." 

"Yeah, I know. That's great! You won't get us lost." 

"One hundred and fifty-two miles... Two hours and thirty-five minutes." Liam reads, and turns his head to look at Harry. "This is a serious roadtrip."

"Serious roadtrip." Harry grins. One year of effort will finally pay off. The long trip draws out his anticipation, emphasizing how significant the lamp is. Funny that. Sometimes it'll really make Harry laugh how important a lamp has become to him. But it daunts him, too. The stakes feel high, although logically there aren't any at all— It's a lamp. It's a complicated thing. Harry wonders how this could all go wrong; if he gets tired and falls asleep on the wheel, if traffic makes him run out of gas, if they lose their way too far for them to make it to Maryport before twelve o' clock. He couldn't afford to make the trip again if it doesn't go right, today. Couldn't afford it in more ways than just financially. "Very serious road trip..."

"For a lamp." Liam laughs.

Harry furrows his brow, gripping the wheel tighter. "Oh yes, haha the stupid fucking mermaid lamp! So stupid and expensive! Let's all have a jolly good laugh! Still funny after a year! Haha!" He laughs with mock elegance, not shouting very loud. "It just never fucking stops being funny! Let's _all_ laugh at Harry! God bless the weird fucking idiot!"

"You can't blame people if they don't understand." Liam keeps reading the directions, unphased by Harry's dramatics. "It is quite weird. Even for you."

"Oh, leave me alone. I've had it with the jokes. Why does everyone have to harass me? None of you let me live."

Liam frowns, suddenly taking that very personally. "I do too let you live. I'm extremely supportive of your lifestyle. Are you not sharing your journey with me at this moment? I swear you don't appreciate anything I do."

And Harry notices. "Yes, you are. And I'm very grateful." Harry looks to Liam, angel-faced but honest. "Alright? I don't take you for granted, love. I promise."

"Thank you. "

"Oh, I'm on West Road, now! Quickly, what's the map say?" Harry sees an exit coming up, and when Liam doesn't answer quick enough he whines, "Mapkeeper!"

"It says, keep going for .4 miles—"

" _.4 miles?_ What is that? How long is that?"

"Shush. Just keep going straight. And... at the roundabout, take the 3rd exit onto Holmes Chapel Road a.k.a A54 road."

"Got it."

Liam chuckles, feeling accomplished. "You know this mapkeeper stuff is really fun! And Cheshire is nice. Very spacious and quiet. Wolverhampton was quite busy before I moved away." He says as he uses his hands to be expressive. He doesn't know why; Harry isn't looking.

"I like Wolverhampton. It's got lots of trees. Remember the park we went to?"

Liam bursts out laughing. "Oh God, the park!"

It was this year, sometime in Spring at eight in the morning. Harry stayed up all night, couldn't sleep one bit after watching Babadook . Once he saw the sun rising at 5:21am he gave up hope on any slumber and started to cook breakfast. The smell of eggs and bacon woke Liam up, but just barely. Enough to go back to sleep. He was officially awake when Harry shook him hard, telling him to sit up so he could place a tray of breakfast on his lap. 7:33am. Breakfast in bed; too bored to wait until Liam woke up on his own. 

And Harry was out of it all morning. Dark circles framed his tired red eyes, brow furrowed like reality was confusing him. It made Liam uneasy, feeling like he was watching a car run without tires. And Since Harry refused to go to sleep, he decided the park would do his boyfriend some good. Nature; life— Harry didn't look like he had any. 

But the tree breeze didn't blow much life into him besides the occasional frustrated gesture of having to constantly push away the curls slapping across his face. However, it did make him pouty and cynical; mean. That was the lack of sleep, Liam knew. Harry's best strike against negativity is sleep. He hates being angry— Really angry. He's like his mother that way, but lacks the ability to snap at all. Liam is the only person he clashes heads with, and even then it's complete banter. The lack of sleep must've been wilting his defenses that day, letting a bad mood brew by. 

Liam just wanted to do something fun to lighten Harry's spirits. Something they'd done before that he knew would both delight and exhaust him completely.

"Got fucked in that park."

First on his knees, then he sort of collapsed and got fucked on his side until a violent orgasm shook through him. And afterwards he fell asleep, right on the grass. The thrill made it more overwhelming, tiring.

"Wow." Liam's face goes red, abashed as he laughs at the memory.

Liam and his crazy ideas. A lot of other things would've put Harry to sleep or in a good mood. They didn't really need to fuck in the park that day. Not at all. But anxiety and pleasure stirred together makes for one of Liam's biggest turn-ons. Just couldn't help himself, and it embarrassed him that day, all day until Harry woke up in the evening. Because he raved on about it, giggling like he always does. And that's always just the best reward to Liam: his boy, satisfied. Although, Harry did ruthlessly teased Liam for being so kinky. But in the end, it's made for a fond memory. Public sex always does.

"You really gave it to me good." Harry remembers. "And it was your idea! Pervert. You really have got a thing for exhibitionism."

"No one saw!" Liam snorts, rubbing his reddened face. It was so early, the park was nearly deserted. Except for the occasional jogger and senior citizen. And they definitely saw. But Liam will insist that's debatable. "Not really. You're not one to talk about exhibitionism. Look at that." And he flicks the loose pink fabric of Harry's—barely buttoned up— button down shirt, wide open enough to display the butterfly tattoo on his belly and peek just a bit of one his nipples.

"Showing off a bit of skin is different from having my ass rammed in the grass, Liam. Although who's complaining... Anyway, I was mostly clothed that day. All you did was drop my pants halfway."

"It wouldn't be so risky if you weren't so loud."

"Well I can't help things like that, Liam." And then he makes a face. "And don't act like that's not why you like public sex so much! Not like it's the first time." His turn to go red in the face. It all sounds so dirty spoken out loud. "Oh God... I really do try to keep quiet."

"Oh, look Tesco is coming up."

And Harry goes quiet for a moment, mouth twitching like he can't decide how much longer he'll stay that way. "You know... it's really nice having you in the car with me." He starts softly. "I'm very grateful you came, Lism. It feels so, um... like, intimate... in a way."

"Aw! We always do have fun going on these crazy adventures together." 

"We're such a cute couple, honestly." And Harry drives right by Tesco.

"Wait, where are you going?" Liam says, concerned as he turns his body to look behind them out the window.

"Just you and me for four hours. The word is..."

"Harry we've just missed Tesco." 

"Maybe just special, in some way. I don't know."

"Oi. Harry. Aren't you stopping to get your mum's list done?"

"It's really going to bring us closer, I can tell you that."

" _Harry_!" Liam hits Harry in the shoulder, annoyed. "Stop that!"

"Ow!" Harry wiggles to his right, away from Liam. "What?! Alright, so we passed Tesco. What are you crying about?"

"Anne's list." So noble he's being, making sure Anne's wishes are being honored— If only for Harry's own protection. And maybe his own, too. He did agree to help. "You're not doing it?"

"Of course I am!" His voice is cheerful and out of place. He knows this is more serious than that.

"When?"

"Oh, here comes the roundabout! Holmes Chapel Road, right? Here we go, now." Harry turns the steering wheel as he makes a turn to the right into Holmes Chapel Road. It's a busier, narrower way down. Not as many nice houses. 

"When are you getting your mum's things?"

"On our way back."

"Harry!" Liam frowns, closing his eyes as he throws his head back against the seat. "Are you looking to get yourself fucking killed? I know it was sort of funny the first time, but I really don't want to see you get in trouble. Don't make your mother angry like that."

"It'll be fine." It almost feels like Harry is talking about something else, as if he's forgotten about his own mother's threat against his life.

"God, you're a dead man. She's gonna rip you to fucking shreds."

"She won't."

"You know she will."

"She won't."

"She will."

"W-Well I haven't got a fucking choice, Liam! I'm short on time, no matter how much... fucking hellfire is in my mother's eyes. So, too bad. It's unfortunate, but there's nothing I can do. I can't stop. If I do, I put this whole trip at risk. I have to keep going."

"It won't take that long to get— What did she say to get? Batteries and... what, eggs? Come on, now."

Harry keeps faltering, defending his stance with a deep frown, "Liam, if I go to Tesco, drive back home and then get back on the road, I will run out of gas later in the trip. I'm not stopping for more gas. I can't stop for more gas. I have the lamp money on me and nothing else."

"So I'll pay for gas, then."

"No, _Liam_ , it is not happening. I'm very sorry to my mum, but I have calculated and— and planned this day to the very last detail and I can't do anything about it."

"Well, let me just say: You've planned it horribly."

Harry sighs loudly through his nose.

"You know, this is why people act the way they do about you and that lamp. You're obsessed! It's fucking ridiculous. You put it before anything else. You need to get your priori—"

Harry reaches his hand to turn the dial on the radio. His favorite station comes on, and Liam narrows his eyes to shoot him a glare. You Oughta Know by Alanis Morissette blasts mid-song inside the car, cutting Liam off. And Harry passionately slaps his hands on the wheel, long curls bouncing on his shoulders as he shakes his head. 

How rude, Liam thinks. He turns his head to his left to look out the window and frowns. Harry can be so stubborn and childish. " _I have calculated and— and planned this day to the very last detail and I can't do anything about it._ " Then there's nothing Liam will do about it if something goes wrong, he promises himself. And then he can turn on his own favorite station and crank up the volume when he hears Harry complain about it. See how he likes it.

The music is really bothering Liam. He winces at Alanis Morissette's 90's shrill ringing in his ears. Sometimes Harry's taste in music strays too into the obscure for Liam to tolerate. He clutches onto the paper, lamenting the headphones he left behind in their apartment. "This fucking station..."


	2. Chapter 2

The temperature has dropped to 3°C outside. The sky was clear all the way up Warrington, Wigan and Preston; but Lancaster is dark, dull and foggy for some reason. Liam and Harry have been on the road for a little over an hour. It's not as enthusiastic of an atmosphere as it was back in the beginning of the trip. The thrill of giving directions has mostly warn off for Liam. The radio is off and conversation between them has gone dry. They don't know for how long they've been on the M6 motorway, but it's beginning to feel like too long. 10:13am; there's hardly anyone on the road. All around them it's low hills and little trees, on and on. An even more tired sight with all the fog blurring it together.

Harry's currently on his third phonecall with the woman selling the mermaid lamp to confirm he's on his way with "a friend". Liam doesn't know how Harry can keep making fresh conversation with her when he starts off with the same topic. He turns his head to the right to watch Harry go. He's pulling out that cheeky grandson charm; like he knows her, misses her and just can't wait to see her. It's unintentional— A true natural. Liam wishes he could be charismatic like that on his own, no mental spreadsheet to keep track of himself.

"Precious little animals, I know..... My cat was quite feisty! Always knocking things over with, um, her paw. If she was still alive she'd knock that lamp over..... Are you kidding? For £2,000, the only pet I'm getting is a goldfish....." Liam can hear the old woman cackling through the phone from the other side of the car. "..... Yes, Lancaster. No my bo— my friend i-is by my side giving me directions. He's my mapkeeper." Harry looks to him to flash him a smile. "Eyes on the road, of course..... Right. I'll be seeing you soon, Marjorie. By— ..... Yes, please do! Thank you..... Bye..." He hangs up, and puts his phone back in one of the small slots in the car's center console. "She's making us tea for when we get there." Harry says to Liam.

"How old is she?"

"Seventy-two. I've spoken with her so many times since last year. Lovely woman. She has twelve children and fourty-eight grandchildren."

"Wow! Christmas in her family must break the bank."

Harry dismisses Liam's terrible joke. "None of them visit her."

"Aw."

"She was a hoarder."

"Oh. Oh, I know what that is. That's those people that collect things and they never throw it away." Liam frowns. He's seen it all the time on TLC. "Terrible thing, that is."

"The city had to demolish the house she was living in because the walls were soaked in um, cat feces and urine and decay— it was all rotting. She got an awful infection in her lungs from just _so much feces_."

"O-Oh... That's a pretty dark story."

"I know. The part about the cat shit..." Harry shivers. "But she's told me she's completely cured. Now she just has collectibles. Very pricey ones. She's had that Tiffany mermaid lamp for decades. It was one of her first collectibles!"

Liam's eyebrows curve upwards. Still deciding if he should find the story horrifying or inspiring. "Let's hope it works after such a long time."

"She says it does. Oh! Liam, could you tell me where we are?"

"Still on M6."

"When are we getting off?"

Liam has to get the piece of paper from out of the glove compartment to take a look at the map again. He traces his finger over the lines as he says, "If we're in Lancaster, then... We won't do anything until we get Penrith. Just keep going straight down this road." And he puts the paper away again. Liam's ass is getting sore from the trip, so he shifts in his seat to recline a little. The seatbelt just barely misses hitting him on his nose.

"There's no fun in taking the same road..."

"Yeah, but it's about your lamp today, love. You're finally gonna get your lamp. And we're gonna make it there super fast if we just stay on this motorway. So it's good, cheer up."

"I'm not in a bad mood, Lee." Harry laughs.

"Yeah, And if my, uh... I made like, calculations a while ago. I was thinking. We're just over an hour away from Cumbria. So we'd be getting there at eleven o' clock. That's an hour early, innit? We could t—"

" _What the fuck?!_ "

Liam jumps, seatbelt slapping his face as he sits up. His boyfriend is horrified for some reason, slapping his palm on the steering wheel. "Jesus, what's wrong?!"

"I'm running on empty, I'm running on _fucking_ empty! There's no fucking gas in the car!" Harry whines like he just might cry, feeling sick at the pounding of his heart. "How is there no gas in the car..."

"Just now?"

"I didn't fucking notice, Liam! What the fuck do I do?!"

"Calm down. We'll just find a gas station, it'll be alright."

Harry doesn't know a lot about cars. Once upon a time, he thought he'd broken his mother's car when the water from the windshield washer began to spray over the glass. He was eighteen years old. Liam also remembers how Harry said in his mother's apartment that there was a full tank of gas in his car. And so Liam's hunch is that maybe Harry has misread something, made a mistake. He leans forward to take a look at the car's gauges behind the wheel. There's the speedometer and the tachometer, but there's no dial for the gas. "Where's it even say there's no gas?" Liam is confident he's misread something.

"In the middle, here." He presses his finger hard on a screen between the gauges.

"Oh..." There's a small, dark rectangular screen with two white meters lighting up inside. The right one is empty and blinks red— the meter for gas. "Distance to Empty: 3 miles." Liam reads, and is sorry to then tell Harry, "You've got to pull over."

Harry's a big believer in fate. He and Liam grew up together in Wolverhampton; best friends, walking to school together, holding a crush for each other neither of them knew about. And then, when Harry was nine years old, he moved away to Cheshire in what he thought then was a cruel twist of fate. They didn't think they'd ever see each other again. But they did. In 2010, at a Lady Antebellum concert they were both dragged to in London. So good seeing each other under such remarkable circumstances. They left together, and have been together for the past five years. To Harry, it felt destined; fate's fingers left its mark when it molded their Liam and Harry's lives together. Harry thanks fate for that— He'll thank fate for a lot of good things.

But that isn't to say that he's never laid blame on fate before. Destiny can be cruel and disciplinary. Keeping him apart from things, too. And in this moment, it hits Harry how he's been missing the signs fate's tossed— if not violently launched— his way.

The car is turned off, parked on the side of the road. The heat that had been circulating is beginning to wear off, making the inside of the Range Rover chillier by the minute. "I had a full tank of gas when we left." Harry mutters, hands dropped on his lap as he sits sunken in the passenger seat. "That was _more_ than enough gas to take me to Cumbria and come back. I don't understand how it's all just gone when we're not even there yet."

"There must be something wrong with the car, then. Or maybe the meter's broken. You know, things like that happen with these new models."

"Nothing's wrong with the fucking car, Liam." Harry frowns, before rubbing over his eyes hard. "There's no explanation. A full tank of gas disappeared. To think I just lied to my mum and betrayed her thinking she'd keep me from getting my lamp. Selfish is what I am. This is what I get for betraying my mum. She's a saint. God's punishing me."

"God likes the lamp you're going to get."

"I'm not getting any lamp. The gas in my car literally disappeared like, that's that's it... I think the message is quite clear at this point. I'm not... meant to get this stupid fucking lamp."

Liam doesn't understand where Harry's coming from. The road isn't busy, but it's not deserted. It's a motorway; gas stations are always close by. A tow truck can come and get them to one faster than they'd probably expect. And gas just can't disappear. "You do know we passed a Moto a few miles back? We've just run out of gas, Harry. Not as if we have to fix your car. We can still make it."

"Like... more than a year saving up for a lamp that costs £2,000. What the hell was I thinking? All this stupid fucking effort I put into it for nothing."

"Don't be like that. Margarine's not gonna sell it to anyone else. Even if we don't get it today, you could just get it on another."

"I'm _tired_ , Liam!" Harry whines, but it isn't wrapped in childishness like he always makes it. He pauses after a big sigh, and Liam knows he's going to rant. Maybe then he'll understand; still confident he can offer a solution. Harry starts drearily, looking straight out the window, "I'm very... very tired, Liam. Today, I was supposed to get the lamp and be _done_ with it for good. Do you think I wanted this to drag on for a year? I want to be over with it just as much as you all do! Between saving up all that money, and adding how much more I needed, hearing everyone try to make me feel like shit for it, and planning this trip, and calculating gas money, and pissing off my mum, and running out of gas I-I..." Harry lets out a scream in his closed mouth before shutting his eyes and dropping his head back. He swallows, and starts again even quieter, "I'm not making this trip again. I don't want to make this trip again. I can't afford it, even if I wanted to. At this point, it's very clear I have ignored every other past sign that's told me I shouldn't be getting this thing. Well, you know what? I'm listening nowm Liam. I'm just gonna go home and... spend that two-thousand quid on something actually useful."

Liam stays quiet, sad to hear how discouraged and dramatic Harry is. He doesn't know what to say, mostly because Harry talked too oddly paced for Liam to understand everything he said. Unbuckling his seatbelt, Liam hopes enough time has passed for it to be okay to ask, "How much gas did you put in?"

Harry expected him to say something else. More supportive and inspiring. He furrows his brow, keeping his eyes closed as he mumbles, "Twenty-three liters."

And Liam's eyes go wide. " _Twenty-three liters?_ That can't be a full tank of gas. It's impossible."

"Yes it is, Liam. I looked it up. 2013 Range Rover Sport fuel tank capacity. Twenty-three liters."

"But that's fucking ridiculous! Twenty-three liters is just over an hour of gas. It's obvious that you would've needed to stop for gas lots of times on this trip. You didn't think about that?"

Harry opens his eyes and talks up at the ceiling. "I asked a man who worked at the gas station if a full tank of gas on a 2013 Range Rover Sport would take me to to Maryport, Cumbria and back and the man told me yes, Liam."

But Liam shakes his head. "I don't believe that." And he takes out his phone to look up the fuel tank capacity on Harry's Range Rover to see for himself.

In seconds, he discovers the mistake Harry made. He catches himself almost laughing out loud about it. Any other time he would've. But he's aware of how upset Harry must be about all of this. If anything, he's struck with that personal obligation of his, of fixing everything to make his boyfriend feel better. Harry can be so helpless, sometimes. He remembers what he said earlier in the trip about leaving him alone when he would need help. He just doesn't have the heart for that. Not with Harry, of course.

"Harry, it was twenty-three gallons. Not liters." Liam tells him gently.

"What?"

"You misread what it said online. Your car fills up with twenty-three _gallons_ of gas, not twenty-three _liters_." With 12 MPG, the 2013 Range Rover Sport is an appalling gas guzzler. Liam had no idea until he looked it up. It shocks him how no one talked Harry out of begging for it, for his birthday. It doesn't even look that nice. "Twenty-three gallons is like, ninety liters. Twenty-three liters isn't even half of that. How did you... not notice when you got the gas that the tank wasn't full like, at all?"

Harry's face doesn't really change as he processes his mistake, sitting up straight in the front seat. The slight knit of his brow seems neutral at this point. He takes a long pause before muttering,

"I didn't notice..."

And Harry's surprised, nodding his head in silent acknowledgement of what an outstanding idiot he is. He might have outdone himself. And to think, the effort he put into rejecting his mother with excuses, thinking she would get in the way of him and his lamp. He breathes heavy and slow, trying to ward off any strong emotion at the knowledge he only has himself to blame. What a brutal miscalculation he made. Blaming destiny felt better. Does it really? Harry could still get the lamp if destiny doesn't care after all. But he brings a hand to rub his face, and laughs somberly. "£90 of gas." Is what he would have to pay for the trip, if he'd still wanted to take it at all anymore. "Wow."

"I'll pay for it, Harry. It's alright, don't worry."

"I won't be able to pay you back, Liam. Don't."

"I know. I don't care." Liam gently pushes Harry's hair back, rubbing over his shoulder. Noticing how cold the fabric of his shirt is, he reaches in the backseat for his coat.

"Don't spend £90 on gas. I'm not getting the lamp. I need to call Marjorie and tell her I won't be able to make it."

"No! We're still going!"

Liam can't understand how this lamp could be important to Harry, but it doesn't keep him from knowing that it undeniably is. If they go home empty handed today, Harry won't get over it. He'll sulk and hold a grudge to his chest longer than the time it took for him to save up £2,000 for his lamp. And what hell that would be. One of the worst tragedies that could strike Liam is Harry ignoring him. Liam's determined to fix things, deciding whatever money he'd spend is no object.

"I don't know if you remember, but I said that we've got an hour to spare. So don't think we won't make it in time. Because we only won't if we just sit here and sulk. We get your lamp, we go home, we turn it on, we live happily ever after. No problem! Don't get moody on me. I'm calling us a tow truck. And I shall pay for that as well." Liam reaches for his phone, and realizes Harry's coat is still in his lap. "Oh, here. You cold?"

Harry unbuckles his seatbelt before taking his coat. He stays quiet for a moment, unsure about his proposition. Too good to be true, or maybe too good to accept. "What the fuck are you gonna pay all that with? You're looking at at least £150."

Liam's heart drops at the number. £150 is devastating. "That's fine." He won't even let himself spend that while shopping for new clothes. "I have a credit card." He says with false serenity.

Harry raises his eyebrow, turning his head to watch as Liam taps at his phone's screen to search for a tow truck company nearby. He doesn't have a credit card. "Your mum's credit card."

"I'll sort that out. Like you with your mum, yeah?"

"Look, don't spend your mother's money on me."

"To be fair, it is an emergency. Not like I'm going shopping. And I'll pay her back. I know my mum, it's cool."

It's cold, although not as cold as outside. It will be, soon. Harry realizes he hasn't put on his overcoat yet. He struggles to put it on in his seat, yanking and pulling the fabric in place to go down his thighs. Liam is already talking on the phone to arrange for a tow truck to come pick them up. There's no room left for protesting, anymore. Harry looks on at the fog outside the window as he listens to Liam discussing road names and information on the car's model. It's a fact that Liam has never called a tow truck before in his life. But he could've had anyone else fooled. Harry wonders if he'd say it was Boy Scout's intuition again. It's not, this time. The corner of his lips curve into a smile without him meaning to.

"Right. That's that." Liam sets his phone down. "He said in an hour he'll get here. But, you know, it could definitely be less. There's like, no traffic today." Liam says, trying to assure Harry he'll be able to get his precious mermaid lamp. "Tow truck comes picks us up, takes us to a Moto a few miles back to get gas, we get gas, we get back on the road, we get your lamp, and then we go home! Done."

Harry chuckles, heart feeling a little big. Boy Scouts has nothing to do with Liam always going out of his way for him. His self-appointed, honoring obligation to selflessly devote himself to his boy, he always boasts. Always overwhelming Harry. And of course, it's that very feeling that drives Liam to be so dramatic in the first place. "Thank you, Liam." He says softly.

It makes Liam happy. "You're welcome. God isn't punishing you, see? Fate is on your side. Because I'm on your side. Sometimes at your feet. _Darling_. Listen. I love you so much."

"Alright." Harry laughs— Just what Liam wanted. He grabs the openings of his coat to pull over his exposed chest, securing it with crossed arms. "I'm so cold..."

"Aha! I told you you would be! At your mum's, remember? You're always cold in that coat. Where's mine?" Liam sits up to reach in the back seat for his beige, blanket-lined jacket, and he shrugs it on. "Nice and cozy. Substance over style."

Harry doesn't say anything. It's cold enough now to make his ears, nose and cheeks flush pink again, like if he were outside. Liam thinks it makes him look like a big, porcelain doll— The ones that sit in bedrooms decorated with flower prints, eyes wide open as they stand in their Victorian dresses. Harry is much cuter to Liam curled up for warmth. But he wonders just how cold he is.

"Are you really cold?"

"Yeah."

"Let's go in the back seat for a cuddle, yeah? To keep warm."

"Just to keep warm. Of course. Strictly business."

Liam laughs, and then steps out of the left side of car. He takes a look at the grayed pasture, the motorway on the other side. It's quiet, and the occasional sound of a passing car doing nothing to keep the atmosphere from feeling abandoned and forlorn. Liam quickly gets inside the Range Rover when he really feels how cold it is outside. To his surprise, Harry's already taken a seat on the right side of the back seat. Liam didn't hear either door open. "Did you jump over from inside?" He closes the door.

"Yeah. Jesus, you just let so much cold air in." Harry whines, arms still crossed tightly around him. Liam scoots next to him and brings him in against his body, holding him tight.

"There, there. Shut up."

Liam is so warm— First thing Harry thinks. And if his thoughts made a sound, it would've been a loud, blaring shout. Harry doesn't know why he's always freezing in any temperature below 20°C. He hates cold weather, loving nothing more than a good summer's scorching heat. Shorts, beaches, flip-flops— That's a dream. And in this cold, Liam's warm body is an especially toasty dream. Like he's absorbed all the heat from the car's heater and replaced it in its duty, whereas Harry's body warmth didn't stick around for more than a few minutes after the car turned off. But the heat from Liam's body isn't getting through to Harry beyond the direct contact to his side. He wants a closer, more effective cuddle.

So he straddles himself on Liam's lap, facing the trunk of the Range Rover as he wraps his arms behind his boyfriend's head. " _This is sooo nice!_ " He lets out a relieved cry, bent over as he squeezes closer against Liam, who's laughs muffle into his chest. "God, you're like a human radiator." Liam is happy to hear that, feeling dutiful as he hugs Harry's body. But he really can't breathe smothered into his chest. He has to slap his sides until he moves back.

"You're gonna suffocate me!" He laughs, looking up at Harry. His coat can't close right sitting the way he is, the seat kind of holding it open. Seeing the half-open pink with white polka-dot shirt, Liam wraps his arms around Harry's waist and hugs him close again to cover him up, feeling the delicate curves of his body. "Are you warm now?"

"Yeah." And Harry bends forward over the backseat again, arms hanging over outstretched on the seat this time so Liam has space to breathe. Liam's head is turned to the side, cheek against his naked chest. He can hear his boyfriend's heartbeat, soothed for a while until he realizes how fast it thumps. That's not right.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." Harry lies, staring down at the black carpet of his Range Rover's trunk.

"You're gonna get the lamp." Liam assures him. "Hm?"

Harry sighs. Leaning back again, he drags his hands over Liam's face; dark brown eyes, thick eyebrows, soft stubble across his broad jaw. "Yeah. I'm just... tired." And then he admits, "The day isn't really turning out like I'd hoped, you know? I still feel bad, I don't know. Dull ride, dull weather, my car ran out of gas, mum's gonna pissed when I get home, it's cold... But... c'est la vie, non?"

 _That's life, right?_ Harry says that some times— Not during the best. He sounds defeated. But Liam thought he'd won. He can only remind him he's getting the lamp so many times to make him feel better. He tries to switch it up with something else on his mind. "You're so pretty."

Harry snorts. "You just always have to say it."

"Oh, excuse me! I'll be sure to call you ugly from now on. Like your shirt." Liam yanks on it from the back.

And Harry looks down at his boyfriend, a little disheartened. "Is the shirt really?"

"Noo. I love it. It's crazy."

He smiles, now. Always does when Liam says he's weird, or special, or crazy. He always means it in the best way. "Yeah?"

Liam eyes over Harry's shirt. "Polka-dots. And the pink is so pretty on you. It matches your lips."

"I got it at the thrift store. It's really big, innit? It was in the plus sized ladies' section."

"It looks good super big, like this."

"Yeah, it does."

"I can just..." And Liam tucks his hands through the wide opening of Harry's shirt and slides them up his back, prompting him to squirm and whine. The shirt is huge and spacious. Liam can touch him all the way up his shoulders and a little down his arms. "Oh, you're so soft."

Harry hums, relaxing against his touch until his hands slide back out. Liam doesn't have any other view but Harry's body, so he just keeps looking. Over his collarbones, his neck, his chest. Then he pulls open his button-down, like if he were holding open a pair of curtains to see some kind of beautiful sight. And Liam observes and takes in Harry's naked chest for some time before saying, "Wow, look at that. Your nipples are huge."

Harry furrows his brow deep as his shoots Liam a wide-eyed glare, and promptly pulls his coat to cover himself up. "Why don't you fucking milk me, Liam?" He says crossly.

"Sorry I-I didn't mean it as a bad thing!" Liam laughs, feeling bad. "I just noticed. They don't look gross or anything. They're really like, puffy."

"They're just hard. It's the cold."

"It's cute. Really." Liam insists.

"Okay."

"I'm sorry."

"Alright."

"I like them. You know that."

Harry does. But he can't help but feel embarrassed. "To be honest, they're always making a scene even when it's hot." He realizes that Liam is peeling away his fingers from the grip he has on his coat, one by one until the shirt comes open again. He decides not to do anything about it, even letting Liam undo one of the buttons for whatever reason he has in mind.

"Sensitive, yeah?" Liam knows they are, it's why he likes having them played with. He eyes Harry's smooth chest, touching over his skin softly with his right hand. His nipples really are puffy. Dark pink and full-looking. They're sensitive, always poking through his shirts inappropriately. Liam touches around them, knowing that just that could get Harry going. It doesn't seem to be. "What's wrong?" He squeezes Harry's hips.

"Nothing. Stop asking."

"See? You're mad."

"I already told you I'm just tired."

There's a long moment of silence. Liam hates it. And as he touches up Harry's sides, the sound of his palms rubbing over his shirt pierces the dead air, opening way for him to mutter, "Can I get a kiss?" He waits, head rested back on seat.

Harry stretches back with a sigh, and he cups Liam's cheeks before leaning down to kiss him; one quick peck. And then he plants another one, longer to satisfy both of them. That's when Liam sits up straighter in the backseat, looking up at Harry who bends himself so they can see each others faces.

"You know I love you so much. Hm? You love me?" He gets a look at his pretty boy, catching a promise in the quick glimmer of his green eyes.

"I love you." Harry hums, his fingers caressing Liam's cheeks.

And then he meets him down for the warm, deep kiss he knows they both want. Melting into it, molding each other around it. Liam feels Harry's back arch against his hands, grinding in his lap a little, already. He slides his warm hands under his baggy, pink shirt, grabbing the plump flesh of his hips in between every touch. Harry can't keep from mewling as the feeling of Liam making his skin hot all over. The car doesn't give them much space, if any at all. But the cold doesn't let them care, just gives them another excuse to be too close.

Liam begins to kiss down the chilly skin of Harry's neck and his collarbones until he's at his chest; so warm there. Harry pulls Liam's head closer into his chest as he encourages him to kiss him more, pressing his face into his skin harder. He pants, feeling Liam's lips kissing over his pecs, the pressure in his jeans tightening as his cock grows stiffer. And he cries out when his tongue laps over his hardened nipple, a row of goosebumps running down his spine. "Oh my God..." Harry's voice cracks, dropping his head over the head rest as Liam suddenly sucks his right nipple into his mouth, latching on tightly. " _Babyy_..." He knits his brows together, pushing his chest forward against Liam's face in sudden desire.

The buttons on Harry's shirt come off one by one. With his hand under his coat, Harry keeps the pink fabric bunched in a tight ball behind his back to stay out of Liam's way as he expertly sucks on his nipple. Harry keeps his back straight, head tilted down to watch. At how tightly his flesh of his pec is being pulled, how Liam's jaw tenses and relaxes with every suck. Harry can't keep his eyes open, falling closed as he bites his bottom lip. Liam runs his hands down his bare back, over his stomach, his clothed thighs. And then his hands grab onto the hem of Harry's jeans; unbuttoning, unzipping, and pulling down his underwear for enough of his erection to peek out. It surprises Harry when he feels Liam's warm palm on his hardening cock, rubbing the head. He moans, hand squeezing his balled shirt behind his back even tighter.

"Feel good?" Liam mumbles over Harry's nipple as he dips his hand under Harry's briefs to jack him off, looking up to see how he wears his arousal on his face.

And he wears it so well, eyebrows curved up as he looks down at his boyfriend with a smile. "Yeah..." Cheeks and lips a bright pink, nose red. His nipple is flushed a deeper, darker pink; swollen and wet with Liam's spit. Harry whimpers, running his fingers through his hair. And he locks gazes with Liam, dizzy as he watches how he drops hard kisses over his nipple. "Fuck..." The nub is so sensitive, aching sharply every time his lips press down on it. "Get your cock out for me, baby? Please..." Harry whimpers, dropping the balled fabric of his shirt behind him so both his hands can rub over the bulge in Liam's jeans.

"You wanna see my cock? Feel how big it gets for you?" Liam loves talking dirty; asking questions, making Harry talk. He unzips his jeans, pulling them down along with his underwear halfway below his thighs. His cock is hard, veiny, sticking upright against his t-shirt. Harry brings down his hand to stroke the thick shaft, twisting his wrist to squeeze and grab his balls. And then he feels Liam's lips around his other nipple. It gives him those electric goosebumps all over again.

He breathes out a shaky laugh at how exciting this is, how good this feels. Harry's never gotten his nipples sucked like this; not so hard, not for so long. Never would've imagined it would turn him on like this. Even the pain. "Fuck yeah..." He breathes, jerking Liam off with his right hand and cradling the back of his neck with the other. His oversized pink button-down hangs open, wrinkled at the bottom. Liam thrusts up into into his hand, moaning at every hard stroke Harry gives his cock. He licks over his hardened nipple slowly with his tongue flat, over and over again. He feels how Harry's body shutters, how he pants and whines like he doesn't know what to do. They jack each other off clumsily in the back of the Range Rover, coats still on in the Autumn chill. Harry can't keep from holding Liam as close to his body as he can. He's freezing.

Liam drops his head back on the seat, kneading at the soft flesh of Harry's chest with his hands. Letting his thumb flick over his swollen nipples just to hear the hitch of his breath. "You wanna suck me off?" Liam glances up at Harry before grabbing hold of his own cock. Fully hard, giving it long, slow strokes to tempt him.

"Yeah." Harry's face lights up, pushing his hair back as he takes a seat to Liam's right. And Liam keeps his grip on his cock to let him know he'll feed it to him, his other hand on the back of Harry's head to push him down into his lap. His long, curly hair gets in the way, so Liam gently pushes it back to fall over his shoulder and down his back.

Resting over Liam's lap, Harry opens his mouth readily and sticks out his tongue, waiting for Liam's cock to get pushed in his mouth. The head rubs on his tongue first, side to side just to tease. When he feels Liam's hand pushing on the back of his head he knows then to take the length in his mouth. Harry bobs his head up and down slow before letting the whole thing fill his mouth, lips touching Liam's groin. "Oh _fuck_ , that's it... that's it..." Liam coos, eyes falling closed as he drops his head back. Harry gags, but he keeps his head in place, knowing he can last a little longer. Liam's cock gets wetter in his mouth for every breath Harry holds. And Liam brings his head back down just in time to see how Harry's face goes red. He pulls his head back by his hair, biting his bottom lip with a smile as he watches him sit up and gasp for air, swallowing his spit. Liam slaps Harry's cheek lightly to make Harry laugh, breathless. He's so adorable, happy.

And for a moment, just one, Liam thinks about how suddenly they got to doing this. He wonders if this was in his mind, somewhere, when he felt himself panic at Harry's sinking spirits. If this is his desperate way of fixing that. A bit useless it would make him, if it were true.

Liam lets go of Harry's hair, combing through it as he watches him lower his body again. He takes Liam in his mouth and starts bobbing his head up and down quickly with eyes closed. As Harry sucks, he pulls Liam's pants down, getting them to pool at his ankles with his assistance. His touches are soft going up and down his boyfriend's thighs as they spread apart. Harry keeps his eyes closed, but Liam stays watching him. Just the left side of Harry's face in view, but that alone has him marveling at how gorgeous he is. Cheeks hollowed, glisteny lips tightly wrapped around his fat cock.

But it hurts Harry's neck to suck dick in this position. He's not used to it; never given head in a car before. And there's such little space in the backseat of his Range Rover. He tries to suck his dick for a while longer, fondling his balls. But he gives out, and lets Liam's dick slide out of his mouth before dropping his head in his lap with a little whine. He pouts as he rubs his sore neck. Liam taps his cock on his cheek, still jacking himself off. "What's wrong?" He laughs.

"My neck hurts." Harry licks his lips and sits back up. He leans forward to kiss his boyfriend deeply, trying to push down his jeans more so he can jerk his own cock along with him. The feeling of Liam's thick stubble rubbing against his skin is harder now that he's a bit more desperate. Liam reaches his hand under Harry's coat to play with his oversensitive nipples, making him moan into his mouth.

"Want me to fuck you?" Liam mumbles softly against Harry's lips as he pushes his overcoat out of the way to rub his right hand over his ass. "Want me to fuck you right here in the backseat? We're on the side of the road. People can see."

Harry pushes himself back a little. He looks into Liam's dark eyes before turning around to look out the rightside passenger window. Traffic has picked up, but not by a lot. His Range Rover's windows aren't that tinted, so anyone could know what they were doing even if they took a quick look. His heart jumps in his chest at the sudden dawning of it all. He turns back around, eyes sparkling as he licks his lips. "Yeah. Wanna get fucked."

"On daddy's lap?"

Harry grins. "On daddy's lap." He pushes his ass against Liam's hand, ghosting his lips over his. Nose, cheeks and lips still flushed as ever. Liam wonders for a moment how cold he must be. But he's so pretty. He caresses his check, rubbing his thumb back and forth.

"Give daddy a kiss."

Again. Open-mouthed and wet enough to sound sloppy, loud. Harry kicks off his boots as Liam grabs the hem of his jeans and yanks down. Promptly, he lies down on his back with his legs over Liam's lap. Ever so spoiled, he waits for his jeans to be taken off for him. Liam decides to show off his strength, pulling them off in just two rough tugs. And so Harry's naked from the waist down, pink and white polka-dot button-down shirt hanging open with nothing but his coat to keep him warm. He runs his fingers through his hair, which he's sure is a complete mess. But it's still gorgeous; silky with big waves. Harry quickly starts jacking off. Feeling so good to be touching himself so naked, his eyes fall closed for just a moment, still lying on his back with his legs over Liam's thighs.

His boyfriend gives his thigh a slap, "Oi. Haven't got all day." And he chuckles as he watches Harry try to quickly sit up in the tiny, uncomfortable backseat.

"Don't worry, I won't last long." He straddles his lap with a helpless laugh. He fixes his coat so the sides don't get in the way. He's starting to feel cold again, cuddling close against Liam to get his arousal into gear again, make him warm again.

"Want me to stretch you out?" Liam tucks his hands under Harry's coat to rub over his smooth, perky ass. His finger teases his hole just a little, giving it quick little taps. It makes Harry lift his hips, eager to get Liam's cock inside him. The top of his head touches against the SUV's ceiling, so he bends himself down a little as he stares down at Liam with bright eyes.

"I can take it."

"All of it?"

Eight and a half inches. "All of it." And Harry grins. Dimpled cheeks and that rosy baby face. It still shocks Liam, sometimes, how he can be so dirty with that innocent little face.

"You seem in good spirits." Liam teases him as he spits into his hand to lube himself. "Feeling a little better?" And he rubs the slick head of his dick over Harry's hole.

But Harry doesn't answer, holding his breath as his eyes fall closed. "Oh my God..." He feels the head of Liam's cock slide inside him and slowly sinks himself down for more. "Fuck... _fuck_ , baby..."

Liam loves hearing the hoarseness in Harry's whimpers. He's tight, maybe too tight to sit on his dick without being fingered open first. But Harry's stubborn and hungry for it. So Liam throws his head back, pleasure making his eyelids heavy. Feels his fat cock being swallowed up, the weight of Harry's body coming down all the way as he sits on his lap. And Harry just sits there, eyes shut tight, brows knitted together as he pumps and squeezes his cock tightly. But then he has to let go, fingers twitching at his sides. His orgasm swam by too close. And Harry almost cries at how that feels. How all of this feels.

"Fuck, you're so tight..." Liam moans, his voice deep. He wraps his arms around Harry's soft hips. "Gonna fuck you so good..."

And Harry feels him thrusts up inside him, drawing out a broken moan from the back of his throat. He digs his nails into the thick fabric of Liam's coat, feeling himself stretched and filled with his cock. Hair falling over his face as Liam snaps his hips for another thrust. Liam can barely keep himself together. He kisses Harry's naked, smooth chest and over his nipples. Still oversensitive, still swollen. And he's merciless as he latches on to suck on one hard, loving the sounds it draws out of him.

He starts his thrusts off slow and easy before building up pace. Harry pumps his cock in his fist slowly, careful not to cum so soon. He keeps his other hand on the back of Liam's head, hips raises as he feels his cock slide in and out of him rapidly. And this way his body can stay in place, so Liam doesn't lose his mouth's hard latch on his nipple. "Just like that... Liam..." Harry's moaning shamelessly, breathlessly. His legs are cold and bare, the inside of his thighs aching as they hold his weight up. Liam fucks him, sucks him. "Oh my God, just like that..."

They're making the Ranger Rover bounce up and down, they can feel it. And the sound of traffic driving in the background excites them more. Every once in a while, Liam looks out the window at the cars going by, dizzy every time he catches people's eyes. How much would they be seeing? What would they think if they saw it all? How obscene they must look, fucking in the backseat of a parked car on the motorway. Harry can only imagine it, nothing to see but the roadside outside the trunk's window. He pushes his hair out of his reddened face. Breathing in the cold air so hard makes his throat dry, his chest tight.

Harry's getting tired. His thighs give out on him as he sinks, Liam's hips bouncing him on his lap. Dropping his head down, he watches Liam suck on his nipple, keeping his head tilted so his hair doesn't get in the way of his view. He steers Liam's shoulders so he moves to the other, aching one. But Liam keeps pinching the other, keeping some kind of attention on it. Harry brings a hand to his chest to squeeze his pec, giving Liam more flesh to push his face into as he suckles. It makes Liam growl, furrowing his brow as he starts jacking Harry off and fucking him harder. Harry's mouth falls open without sound, watching his boyfriend's face buried in his chest as he pleasures him. And then he whines, never taking his eyes away, "Liam, you're gonna make me cum..."

"Yeah?" He kisses over the hard, swollen nubs on Harry's chest as he looks up. "You love this so much, don't you?"

"Fuck yeah..."

Liam grazes his teeth over his nipple, going to the other one to do the same before giving it a hard suck. Harry's so wanton squeezing both his pecs out with his hands, sticking his chest forward desperately before his boyfriend sucks his puffy nipples relentlessly. His toes curl in his socks as his orgasm builds in his balls, edging towards it with his head dropped forward. It's when he lifts it back up that he looks out the trunk's window through half-lidded eyes before they suddenly snap wide open. "O-Oh my God, Liam, the tru— the towtruck's here...!" He laughs as he pants, slapping Liam's shoulder.

Liam turns his head around, despite how hard it is to move his body with Harry on his lap. A few yards away, the towtruck slowly drives towards them. "J-Jesus _Christ_!" Liam's heartbeat races in his chest. And as he shifts in the seat worriedly, he feels his cock sliding in and out of Harry as he starts bouncing on him. "Harry!" He hisses worriedly, not knowing if he really does wants him to stop. 

"No, pleasepleaseplease don't stop, Liam..." Harry cries, his voice hushed and throaty. He shoves Liam's face into his chest again as he fucks himself on his throbbing cock "He's not here yet. Please please I wanna cum. Make me cum, daddy. Please, daddy. Like before." He touches up the back of Liam's head with trembling fingers, glancing out the window to see if the truck has stopped and parked yet. It's coming closer, will be stopping soon. "Daddy... daddy fuck me, please..."

And Liam knows he has no choice— that is, if he wanted to fight it. He laughs, terrified and turned on in an entirely new way. Fear launches his hips into violent thrusts as he tries to fuck Harry to both their orgasms. He pinches Harry's nipple as he sucks on the other , just like before. But harder without meaning to, suckling in skin from out around his nipple when he opens his mouth too much. The truck's rumbles get closer and closer. Harry's finding it hard to stay quiet at all. He drops his body over, choking out muffled cries into the sleeve of his coat as he pumps his hard cock up and down frantically.

And then Harry wheezes, raising his hips before snapping them forward, body trembling as an overwhelming orgasm rips through him. It was pushed back so many times that all Harry had to do was stop trying so he could get himself to cum. He cums so much; white streams spurting and spraying all over Liam's beige jacket. His orgasm makes him spasm around Liam's cock tightly, just minutes away from milking him empty.

The tow truck has stopped, and parked just behind the car. The driver prepares for the cold weather outside from the inside of his truck, gathering his coat and hat. Liam keeps thinking about how close he must be to walking up to them at the window, his heart beating so fast it makes his head spin. His jaw is slack from sucking Harry's nipple so har. He's tempted to get lazy until Harry bends down to whimper dirty things into his ear. And that makes Liam keep going, wanting to hear his voice as he drives himself to his orgasm. "Come on, baby... Come on..." Harry kisses his temple, cradling his head firmly against his chest. "Wanna feel your cum in me, Liam... Fucking cum in me... Give it to me, give it to me..."

The tow truck's door opens and slam shut, letting them know the driver is walking this way.

And Liam cums, growling and crying out into the bare skin of Harry's chest. He squeezes his hips, digging his nails into his pale skin without meaning to as he pulls him down, and pumps him full of cum. Every twitch of Liam's cock inside him runs goosebumps under Harry's skin. "All of it, baby. All of it..." Harry breathes as the feels himself becoming full, dizzy like he just might faint.

And then Liam pushes him off his lap.

Harry bursts into a fit of laughter when he knocks his head against the seat. "What the fuck!"

And it makes Liam laugh. "I'm s-sorry!" His hands tremble as he pulls up his pants and zips them up. Harry cackles lying down, rubbing his face with the palm of his hands. He feels dizzy in his post-orgasm high— It's what's made him laugh so hard about Liam shoving him off the way he did. He curls his legs in to tuck most of his bare skin under his coat, too tired to put on his pants yet. Liam glances out the window and sees the man from the tow truck is less than two yards away. He thanks God he isn't any closer before getting out the car from the left side.

Liam nearly loses his balance the second his feet touch the ground. He can still feel his balls twitching, aking his whole groin ache. When he looks down to steady himself, he notices Harry's cum stained on his shirt and coat jacket. "Shit!" He turns around and tries to wipe it away, but it's already darkened into the fabric. It only blurs away a little as he furiously wipes it down.

"Good afternoon, sir!" The tow truck driver startles Liam as he greets him from behind. "Oh, I'm sorry! Didn't mean to frighten you, there!" He laughs, sticking his belly out. He's a fat, red-cheeked old man; late sixties, oblonged shaped face from the years weighing down the fat on his face. He wears a jacket just like Liam's— beige and everything and a big cap. His accent lets Liam know he's from the south. Wonders what he's doing so far up north. "Would you be Liam?" He asks.

"Yes! We s-spo—" Liam has to clear his throat, jaw hurting. "We spoke on the phone? "

"Right you are!" He's so merry, like he's excited about towing a car. "That was me. I'm Frederick." He sticks out his hand as he introduces himself. Liam shakes it, face going numb when he realizes he wiped his boyfriend's cum off his coat with that hand. "I'll be getting you were you, uh, need to go." Frederick drops his hand, putting both in his jacket. Liam discreetly touches his fingers in his palm. He's relieved, to a degree, to see that they're dry. It's not certain if they were before he shook the tow truck driver's hand. "This your vehicle? She's a beauty."

"No, it's my friends. He's in the backseat. Not feeling well." Liam is compelled to lie, in case Frederick is compelled so ask when he sees him lying down on the backseat."

" _He's_ in the backseat?"

"Yeah, he's um... He's got somewhere to be and since the car ran out of gas, you know, he's upset because he thinks he'll be late."

The tow truck driver begins to laugh, taking off his hat as he scratches over the thinning hair on his spotted head. Liam chuckles along with him, throwing a quick glance at the backseat window. He can see Harry's knees sticking up, praying they're clothed.

"Blimey! Thought you had a girl with you."

Liam gives him a puzzled look, as polite as it can be towards a stranger.

"What with the way that car was bouncing and shaking about with you two going at it back there."

Liam feels like his insides have dropped into his feet. His smile is frozen on his face; plastered. Maybe too much is happening for his body to notice and really do anything about it. Dizzy, nauseous, exhausted, humiliated—

"I suppose we all have our own paths, don't we? But God loves all his children the same." And Frederick chuckles warmly as he nods. "Even the sinners."


	3. Chapter 3

"Did you know that you called Marjorie 'Margarine'?" Harry croaks from the backseat, lying on his back as he stares up at the ceiling.

"What?! When?" Liam laughs.

"We were— It was when we ran out of gas. And I was like nagging. You said like, 'Don't worry. Margarine's not gonna sell the lamp to anyone else. ' And I was like, Oh my God, he did not just call her butter."

Liam tries to remember, but the memory doesn't seem to be there. It's hard to think any harder since he's too busy focused on the road. "I don't remember! Oh my God. Well, Marjorie and margarine are so similar sounding."

" _Don't worry, butter's not gonna sell the lamp to anyone else._ Imagine butter selling a lamp."

"What's butter gonna do with £2,000?"

"Buy lots of bread. Make some toast. Rid itself from its miserable life in a plastic container."

"What?!" Liam bursts in a laughing fit, almost hard enough to have him driving irresponsibly. "Oh my God. Where do you come up with these things, Styles? Why do you always get a funny streak after sex? It's so weird! Like, every time."

Harry didn't think he was that funny, but just hearing Liam's laugh makes him chuckle. It flatters him, too. Liam might be the only person who really thinks all his jokes are funny, and rarely ever rolls his eyes at the purposefully tacky ones. Harry's certain his boyfriend has to be lying about it in the line of love's duty. But Liam never fakes things like that. A horrible actor, after all. Harry's sense of humor is one of Liam's favorite things about him. "But we had sex like, an hour ago. How is this post-sex humor?"

Harry fell asleep in the backseat immediately after they had sex. He knows Liam woke him up to hop into the tow truck while he drove them and the Range Rover a some dozen miles back to a Moto to fill up with gas. £90; just as Liam promised. Unfortunately, Harry wasn't awake to witness his chivalry, as far as he remembers. He's only been awake for a few minutes, talking to his boyfriend from the backseat all the while. He's spent most of it going on about how incredible sex in the backseat was, as he always does upon waking up after especially wild sex. Liam had never fondly recapped their degenerate sexual affairs while driving, but he's certain after running two red lights and nearly crashing that he probably shouldn't again.

Liam forgets to answer Harry's question. "Hey, I was waiting this whole time for you to wake up because I wanted to ask—"

"Changing the subject." Liam hears Harry mutter from the backseat.

"No, you don't understand. I've literally just been thinking about this the whole time while you were in the backseat sleeping. Listen, when..." Liam tries to rephrase himself, hopefully a little less blunt. "Okay, have you like, cleaned my cum off you yet?"

"Oh my God..."

"Because you were asleep when I opened the door to call you so we could get in the tow truck! And you had your clothes on again. It was just so fast. I wondered if you actually cleaned up. But obviously I couldn't ask because we were with the driver in the front seat. So..."

"Yes, I cleaned myself."

Liam quickly asks, "With what?"

"I have some, like... fast food napkins in the glove compartment."

"Oh right those!"

Harry won't admit how often he buys fast food, but the undeniable proof is in his glove compartment. Any unused napkins, sauce packets or straws go in the glove compartment in case of emergencies. The napkins come in handy, especially. Any of the ketchup packets have yet to be used.

"You've got straws and spoons and sauce packets and barbecue sauce in there as well."

"Yeah."

"Where'd you put the... cum napkin?"

Harry hesitates. "I threw it out the door."

And Liam gasps as deep as he can. "Harry! _Littering?!_ How could you?! With semen-soaked napkins?!" Harry will nag Liam for recycling improperly, and absolutely kill him if he forgets to throw away his trash. Teasing him for this is mostly a good opportunity for a lighthearted revenge's guilting. But also, Liam really is shocked to hear that Harry would just throw something like that out the car door on the side of the road.

Harry quickly sits up and leans forward, gripping the sides of the front seat to express his regret sincerely. "I know! But I was so tired, I wasn't thinking. I feel awful. That's so disgusting"

"I'm just joking. I don't care." Liam giggles before turning his head to see that Harry's head is beside his. It's the first time he's seen his face since he fell asleep in the backseat. The redness in his face has disappeared, on account of Liam turning up the heater. The coat is gone. And it's a nice, new sight to see him in just his crazy, wrinkled, pink with white polka-dot button-down shirt. His long, brown, shoulder-length curls are looking a little tangled from the sleep. He wears his tired, freshly-awake pout with baggy eyes, but that could never keep him from looking beautiful. Liam properly greets him, "Oh, good morning." It's 12:42pm.

Harry narrows his eyes, and scoots back to rest his back on the seat. "Of course you don't care about public littering..."

"Maybe you should've cleaned up with the straw."

" _Goodnight, Liam._ "

"No, don't go back to sleep! We're literally like, a few streets away from getting there!"

Harry just stays quiet, never meaning to fall asleep seriously. He's a little exhausted, but he knows that isn't going away with a nap. He takes a look out the window for the first time. At least the sight is different. He considers asking where they are, but realizes he's had enough road conversing for today. They aren't completely in the city, but there's enough greens for them to pass by a dairy farm. Black and white cows walk their aimless distance across the relatively small acres.

Harry brings his hands to his chest. "God my nipples hurt so fucking bad." He doesn't dare touch them; learned his lesson more than once with a few careless grazes. "Look at them."

"I'm driving."

"Look."

Liam twists the rearview mirror to see Harry's chest in the reflection. He holds open his shirt with two hands, showing off his swollen, deep pink nipples. "Ouch." Liam readjusts the mirror again before looking back to the road. "Sorry."

"It doesn't hurt that bad. It feels like, when lactating mothers complain about how their nipples ache." Harry says as he looks down at his chest, poking carefully around his aching, swollen nubs.

"Yes, I know exactly how that feels. From my last pregnancy."

"Then imagine getting your nipples twisted."

"Jesus!" Liam exclaims at the memory— A very painful one. "I didn't know it felt like that! You actually like that?"

"No! It feels soo good when you're sucking on them, it doesn't really hurt. It's just now, they're insanely sore. " Harry's mind goes back to getting fucked in the car after they ran out of gas, as Liam suckled on his chest nearly the whole time. He doesn't think he'll ever forget that. It might be a more outrageous memory than when they had sex in the park. It was so sudden, so spontaneous. So _amazing_. "Imagine getting your dick sucked really, really hard. I just—  I love the pain, I don't know." He giggles, sort of embarrassed. "I'm sore. My ass is pretty sore, too. And my neck. And God, my thighs. Absolutely no fucking mercy, Liam. It's no wonder I was knocked out for an hour." 

Liam feels a little bad, almost as much as he feels smug. How sadistic of him to enjoy listening to Harry complain about body pain after wild sex with Liam. But he quickly proposes. "I'll give you a massage when we get home, yeah?"

"I need to take a shower first. Do it before I go to sleep."

"So you can fall asleep as I'm doing it?" Liam smiles up into the rearview mirror at Harry's reflection, greeted back with his dimpled, cheeky grin.

"Yeah."

Eyes back on the road, Liam suddenly exclaims, "Oh look, Harry, we're here!"

Harry looks out the window to see that they've pulled into the parking lot, and quickly reaches to grab his coat and put it on.

"Have you got your mum's list?"

"Yeah. My shirt's got a pocket."

The Range Rover is a lot more difficult to drive than Liam's 2010 Kia Rio. But he suspects that's just to do with nerves. Although not exactly as luxurious as other models, Liam is still driving a technically luxury car. He's parted with enough money today, and he can't bear to imagine spending money for damages to his boyfriend's Range Rover. But the car is parked successfully and safely, and Liam hops out with jacket in hand. He buttons it up by the time his boyfriend is out of the car with his coat on. Harry stretches his back, squeezing his eyes tight before relaxing into his bad posture. And he runs his fingers through his shoulder-length hair to make it presentable before walking with Liam through the Tesco parking lot and into the building.

"Alright, so... We can get your mum's things first. But we can split up, too, if you like. I suppose we'll like, walk around the store and look at stuff. I think we can really afford to waste some time." Liam laughs as he and Harry walk past the automatic entrance doors.

And then suddenly Harry remembers. He was half-awake for a moment in the gas station, talking to Liam. How did he forget? The sex must have been more intense than he thought. "Oh, right. We were too late. Marjorie already left for lunch."

They were too late. After filling up the car for gas, Liam caught the time as he sat in the front seat. 12:29pm. He woke Harry up and implored him to call Marjorie to tell her they were late. But after dialing her number, Harry handed his phone over to Liam so he could speak with her, instead. His heart stopped when she told him they were too late. Marjorie wasn't even in her house when Liam spoke with her. She was with her friends "a long way's go from home", she apologized. For a while, Liam sat in deep disappointment in the front seat, silent and frowning. What would he tell Harry? Just how bad would he take the news? Liam woke him up only when he had a new plan in action to give him a sense of hope.

And Harry took it just fine. It must have been the post-sex power nap. He sweetly and sleepily accepted Liam's proposal the three times he repeated himself to confirm Harry wasn't talking in his sleep. And that was that. Liam was impressed— at himself. What a harmonious mood Harry was in.  Just how hard did he fuck him in the backseat? 

But now in Tesco, Liam worries Harry wasn't lucid at all back at the gas station. He leans in a little closer to mumble, "You're alright, yeah? I told you when I stopped for gas that Marjorie said we couldn't make it, so we were just gonna go to Tesco? You said it was okay. Do you remember? You know we—"

"I'm fine, I promise. I remember." Harry laughs as he playfully slaps Liam away. He's too tired to process his rushed words of reassurance, merged with the chatter of the shopping Tesco customers.

"Cool. Okay."

"Listen, Liam..." Harry stops, waiting for Liam to lean in closer again. "Don't try to fuck me in here."

Liam chortles, face going red. "Oh shut up! I won't!"

"I think I'll have to warn you from now on."


	4. Chapter 4

Harry's mother paints her nails on the kitchen counter. Three bottles of polish sit side by side; glossy, clear base coat and top coat; and navy blue polish. It's relaxing as she paints a straight line on the tip of her nail with a brush dipped in navy blue. She glances up at her computer's screen to compare the reference photo to her progress, happy to see that she's doing well. Glossy base coat with a navy blue french tip. Anne just couldn't resist, knowing she had all those colors of polish in her possession. The two first nails already painted have uneven lines, however, her middle finger has such a clean line of blue at the tip. A sign of growing skill, she hopes. 

But just as she twists open the cap of the base coat polish to begin painting on the next nail, Anne hears the front door unlock. Quickly, she drops everything to walk out of the kitchen and dash into the hall. Harry and his Liam step inside before she can make it to touch the door. Harry calls out, "Mum, we—" Until he notices her walking over. "Oh, you're there! Hi, mum."

"Hi, Anne."

"Hello, sweetheart." Anne smiles, handles already cupped for Harry's cheeks as she walks up to him. "Oh, careful. My nails are wet." She warns him before giving him a kiss on each cheek. Then she notices the plastic shopping bags hanging from both his hands. Distracted, she forgets to greet Liam. He understands, but mainly just doesn't care. The trip has exhausted every bit of energy in him. After taking off his coat, Liam heads into the living room for a well-deserved lounge on the couch.

"Mum, look! I got you stuff."

Harry glances his head down to the plastic bags hanging from his hands. He doesn't wait to set them on the counter, he doesn't even wait to for his mother to take them from his hands. He just begins to go on with the rehearsed speech he created in the car for when he got home. By presenting her with gifts, acknowledging his wrongdoing and then apologizing, he hopes it will be enough for his mother to forgive him for lying to her the way he did. It's already four in the afternoon, when he knows she expected him back home in a few minutes.

"I got you two packages of AAA batteries, two dozen eggs and your shampoo with conditioner. But I got you a lot of other things as well. I saw this little diary that looked nice, it comes with a lock and key. I also got, um, two Revlon lipsticks. It said it was new and um, I went with red and magenta. I don't know if you like those colors or not but, um... Oh, and I got you a little pack of chocolate cookies, as well. And peanut butter truffles. It's not much but, um— Liam lent me the money! I wanted to buy you some things because I, um... I didn't come back with your things early like I said I would. And I'm really, really sorry. For lying to you about coming back early. But, you know, I ran out of gas all the way up in Lancaster, anyway. And we had to call a tow truck and the whole trip was a complete disaster. So that's what I get for lying to you, see? You can still be angry at me. You don't have to like, not be just because I bought you some things."

"I'm not angry, Harry."

Harry's rehearsed, puppy-eyed pout is washed away. "You're not?"

Almost immediately after shouting at Harry, Anne felt a bit embarrassed afterwards. She doesn't think it's true to her nature to shout like that, but knowing it was done in front of a guest is what really humiliated her. When Harry didn't come home right away, she knew he'd left for his trip to Cumbria to buy his lamp. With no self-discipline she knew she would have spent these past six hours angrily plotting her son's rightful punishment, which might have included banning him from her apartment for a few weeks. But Anne simply did not allow herself to stay angry about it. After talking with some of her friends, reading a book and— attempting to— paint her nails, Anne felt she was good as new as she left her negative emotions behind her.

She smiles, "I'm not angry. I promise. I'm just happy to see you're back safe." And then she notices, "Where's Liam?" She turns around to look down the hall.

"I'm in the living room!" He calls out weakly.

"He's tired." Harry tells the back of his mother's head, afterwards telling her face when she turns around, "We're both really tired."

"Aw! My poor babies..." And then Anne suddenly looks to the ground, eyes scanning the floor with her brow furrowed as if looking for something. "Hold on, where's your lamp?"

Looking down at Anne, Harry takes a deep breath, holding it with his mouth opened.

"Don't tell me you didn't get the lamp!" Anne frowns. As much as she hates the mermaid lamp, she'd be sad to hear that after six hours of undeniable effort, Harry wasn't able to get the damn thing.

His mouth falls opens a little more.

"You didn't get the lamp?"

And more.

And just a little bit more. And then he leans down to carefully drop the bags on the floor.

"It's outside on the front steps." He says quietly with a delighted smile and a little dance.

Because Liam and Harry were too late to pick up the lamp before Marjorie went out to lunch. But for some reason, Harry assumed she wouldn't be coming back. She made it sound like such a formal, serious and long outing with her friends. But after Harry gave Liam her number to call and tell her they would be late, she just said they would have to wait until she came back from lunch after one o' clock. Harry would have celebrated if he wasn't half-asleep, but he smiled at Liam to let him know that he knew that was a good thing. A good thing that he truthfully wasn't expecting.

So Harry got his lamp in the end. His wallet lost £2,000 in cash, and was left stretched and slim in his coat pocket for the ride home. Liam spent exactly the ten quid he'd brought for purchasing collectibles of his own: two antique toy cars and a rusty Lone Ranger lunchbox from 1952, all of which he decided to leave in the car to either take out tomorrow or leave there for when he and Harry drove back home to Birmingham. They both had something to be satisfied about, although Harry hogged all the attention for his lamp. The whole car ride home Liam was glancing over to Harry's lap on the passenger's seat to look again and again at the lamp, at his boyfriend's request. Hearing him talk about the lamp for two hours had his head throbbing by the time they arrived in Cheshire.

But better for Harry to get that out today than to keep it locked inside and release over a long length of time. The satisfaction of finally owning the Tiffany Studios nautilus bronze mermaid lamp has come in stages. But despite purchasing it and holding it in the car, it won't really be complete until he turns it on himself. So, then, it'll all be over in a moment. Hopefully he'll shut up for good.

His mother chuckles, pursing her lips as she gives him a playful slap on the arm. "Bring that damn thing in. I want to see."

"Liam, come here!" Harry drops the plastic shopping bags on the floor and giggles as he tells his mother, "Close your eyes!"

So she does, quietly laughing at the hushed, distanced dialogue between her son and his boyfriend.

"Where should we put it?"

"Here. Wait, move this way. Okay there."

"Do I unplug this one?"

"No, this one. Okay, plug it in. Does it tu— _Okay yes yes turn it off!_ " And then Harry pulls his mother's hand, walking her down the hall and into the living room before telling her, "Okay, open your eyes!"

And there it is.

"Wooow." It feels so bizarre to see it actually embodied; the lamp. Like a myth proven to be true.  She'd seen pictures before, but it doesn't keep her from being surprised to just see it with her own eyes. "It really is lovely. What a pretty shell." She laughs. God, how deeply she loathes that thing. Harry placed it on the table against the wall where Anne had her ceramic angel figurines placed. There's a power outlet just under it, and she can see that the mermaid lamp has already been plugged in, although turned off.

"It's a nautilus. It's like a sea snail's shell. Do you like it?" Harry's grinning from cheek to cheek, watching his mother's reaction closely. Liam stands next to him, watching both their reactions with a plastered smile. "Isn't she pretty? Look at her! She's finally mine!" 

"Does it turn on?"

And Harry's heart stops, hesitating anxiously with a smile on his face before quickly reaching to bring his lamp to life.

"Look at her go!"

The sixteen month old burden has finally been put to rest.

Liam might be the only one sharing in Harry's excitement. But only because of how happy Harry is. How ever in God's name he managed to allow himself to become this emotionally invested in a lamp will never be clear to Liam. Not even remotely so. And he doesn't ever want it to be. There's more important things in his relationship he wants answers to. He wants this to be the last time he ever has to give this lamp thought beyond an observant glance from their apartment's couch as he watches movies on his computer— That's where he hopes it will be forever. Or until someone breaks it. But he won't think of that. He'll let himself grin over the whole day's absurd adversities and the darling, glowing smile on his boyfriend's face.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please leave kudos and let me know what you think in the comments.


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